It’s a jungle out there! A brave, patriotic soldier has been discovered, who is still fighting World War Two. The location is the impenetrable jungle in south-eastern Albion, known locally as “Essex”.
The man was discovered in full, if dirty, fatigues in Kingley Wood. He carried a loaded rifle, and took our reporter into custody in an old, hollowed out oak tree, before consenting to grant an interview.
“Whose side you on?” he demanded, jabbing your reporter with his rusty bayonet. “Churchill or Fritz? You can’t trust anyone these days!”
I’m an Englishman, said the reporter, and anyway we are all on the same side these days.
“Nonsense! You’re a German spy! I speak German, you know, so you’ve been warned!” He moved the blunt point of the bayonet up to neck level. “Vot ist you in zis vood doink?”
Really, the war has been over for 75 years, put the rifle down and come home.
“You don’t fool me!” he shouted through his clenched teeth and advancing with a slightly constipated expression on his face.
Look, could you move away a bit, we are supposed to be keeping two metres apart at the moment.
“Typical Jerry trick!” he spluttered. “Don’t you cough on me, I’m part of the invincible English Army!”
Look, there are no Germans, and your government needs a brave, patriotic soldier like you to give the country a boost.
“No! They could attack at any moment!” he cried. “They will swarm in from Southend-on-Sea and overrun the country so it looks like Chelmsford when Poundland has a sale on!”
Your reporter, by now fed up, pushed the gun barrel to one side and left.
“Come back, you traitor! You’re going to betray me to the enemy!” He trained the rifle, steadied himself, pulled the trigger. The old gun clicked, but did not fire.
Enquiries locally revealed that an old lady, who claimed to be the soldier’s mother, would take pies to the wood daily, but nobody would be quoted on this. Doors slammed, net curtains twitched, and the little village assumed an air of silent menace.
“Are you local?” No. Fearing repercussions, your reporter narrowly escaped on the number 452 bus.
Pig-headed, out of touch, and still fighting The War, the government could learn much from this man.